A novel as prophecy - too weird by half
"Did I tell you what happened in here the other night?" Mum asked. "A swathe of insects invaded these wards. Rooms were shut, patients were moved, it was like sheets and blankets were made of flies and crawled all over bodies and faces."
"That's just too weird," I told her. Revising my new novel Cromozone one of its strangest aspects is meeting the mother in the book, who has swollen to incapacity in the way Mum herself recently did for a time, a condition called surgical emphysema even swelling her eyes to blindness. It was alarming enough to find my mother reduced to the situation of the character in my book - but within the novel the most devastating period for that woman comes when she and her garden are smothered in a swarm of insects. She is subsequently carted off to the wards of an institution, placed in a bed to face a window just as Mum is doing.
Another aspect of the book is that the narrator (the son) has the gift / curse of sometimes seeing the future.
"So what's happening to me is all your fault," Mum said when I confessed.
I thought the book was the wildest of imaginings. Now the wait is on to see what more aspects of devastation come true.